Prison Visits
by KillerElephants
Summary: Edited re-post. AU: Emma struggles with coming to terms with Storybrooke's sudden transition to the Fairytale Land, and, desperate, goes to the one person she hopes might bring her a sense of closure: her parents' prisoner, Regina. Swan Queen, Regina Mills, Emma Swan. (Rating will change to M upon completion.)
1. Chapter 1

Prison Visits

The curse was broken.

It still hadn't fully sunk in for Emma, yet, though the craving for a seemingly non-existent cheeseburger and diet coke was hurrying the process along. The second she had found herself surrounded by the townsfolk of Storybrooke (looking like they had just marched out of the dark ages), in what appeared to be a quant village with a surrounding forest that was more like an ocean in its depth, Emma expected to feel a sense of pleasant catharsis; something that would allow her to finally feel like she had a stable home to belong, and a family, and a good life ahead of her.

And as she looked back upon those smiling faces, their obvious joy unavoidable to the point of suffocation, she became all too aware that her happily ever after was still waiting for her to catch up to it.

The smile was easy to wear, because she _was_ happy. She had Henry clinging to one arm, and Snow White and David, her _parents_, clinging to the other. This was her family, the people she knew she could depend on, and all those lost years were being made up with each second she spent in their presence. But Emma couldn't ignore the little voice that struggled against all those other, much louder, voices inside her mind; the one that told her something was missing.

The thought came to her like second nature, as if she had stepped into her bedroom only to suddenly find her bed had disappeared, and for all the effort she put into drowning it out with her inner monologue of praise and relief, the thought refused to be silenced.

It had been a month, now, or perhaps two, and despite looking like she had, herself, been a part of the Enchanted Forest her entire life, Emma felt like a bigger eyesore than she had while standing around the former people of Storybrooke in her leather jacket and jeans.

The dresses had lasted until the morning after the effects of the corset finally caught up with her aching ribs, and since then she had opted for wearing fitted trousers and shirts, though still the frills and the lace were a far cry from what she'd usually pick out for herself at the store.

The outfit, she saw, didn't sit well with Snow - she couldn't quite bring herself to call her 'mom', or David 'dad', as they did, after all, look relatively the same age as her - but she only tried to advise Emma over wearing something more ladylike when they were holding a ball. Apparently, a woman in trousers was enough to strike unease in the princes that practically lined up for her hand in marriage, even despite their stay in Storybrooke.

And the balls themselves? Emma had never felt more uncomfortable, and she knew it showed. Despite Snow's hand on hers, or David's reassuring smile, Emma couldn't comfortably fall into the role of the princess she was expected to be, and it was enough to quell up old questionings of her worth.

When she had voiced these worries to her parents, they had instantly dismissed them and, she had to admit, made her feel a lot better for their reassuring words. '_It is to be expected'_, they had told her, '_you'll grow into it with time'_, that one she doubted, '_this is who you're supposed to be'_and that one she knew, without question, was a downright, dirty lie.

Despite their endless 'talks', both Snow and David saw that Emma wasn't quite satisfied with the life she had been given. It hurt them, to see her so unhappy with their world, both because it was as if she was trying to reject her heritage, and because they had only ever wanted their daughter to be happy.

They had asked her, one late night before she had retired to her bedchamber, what would make her happy, and Emma couldn't answer. Whether she didn't know, or she wished for them not to know, they were unsure, but Emma had left them that night troubled, and had awoken the next morning looking as though she had not slept the full night through.

Henry had fallen into place perfectly, better than Emma could ever have hoped for, and she was happy - if not slightly envious - for him. So happy was he that he missed her own melancholy, but she couldn't blame him. They hadn't been there long and already he had had two unicorns literally eating out of the palm of his hand, and spotted a flock - or a pack? - of wild Gryffins.

She supposed he had always believed in the curse, since receiving the book, and he had been given the luxury of time to get used to this fairytale land before he had even been transported there. Still, she could not help but wonder when her own mind would catch up with her body, and living in this wondrous, terrifying land would feel normal.

Currently, Emma sat alone in her bedchamber, glancing out of the window with a mild distaste to the singing nest of birds in the tree that stretched along just below. The thought came to her, as it often did, of whether or not their disappearance from Maine would have been noticed. Of course, there were never any real strangers in Storybrooke, even Henry, with the least tangible link, fit in there just as much as every other storybook character did.

But it did exist, and Emma often wondered if anyone might have seen the name on a map somewhere, or a sign - she had followed directions, after all - and smirked with incredulity, asking aloud if that was where Humpty Dumpty lived - which, in all honesty, it was.

Or had the curse acted to repel any outsiders' interest? She found wondering about it futile; she'd never know, and for all the times she had asked Snow and David, they were unable to give her a clear answer, at least not one that had actually answered her question. This had then left her wondering if Regina, the Evil Queen herself, would be able to satiate her curiosity.

Perhaps the curiosity was just an obstacle her subconscious had provided for her - something to question and wonder about that would take her mind off how little she belonged in this strange world - and in the end, the initial question itself had been slowly disregarded for thoughts of the woman who was responsible for unleashing the curse.

Regina had always fascinated her; Emma had wanted to understand her, fully understand her, as much as she had wanted to punch her in the face – though, she did get a pretty good right hook in once. She supposed it came with Regina being the woman who brought her son up, she was bound to want to understand her. It was probably perfectly normal, she supposed.

With her understanding of Regina's background - and she had to admit, it did come from a storybook and her overly-imaginative ten year old son - Emma was only more intrigued. She tried not to be, tried to bottle the anger she had towards the woman, for all that she had done - to her, Henry, her parents, everyone in the fairytale land - and unleash it on those feelings of wonder and curiosity whenever they arose, but they were coming so quickly after the last bout, she barely had enough time to pry out the cork on her bottled Evil-Queen-repellent before the questions had already piled into her own personal Himalayas.

The proverbial mountain peaks had finally stabbed her in that unreachable part of her back for long enough, Emma conceded one night, and went to find her parents. She was still unsure as to exactly what it was that they did, though she did not get to see them all that often during the day. She hoped the lecture of 'how to be Queen one day' would be put at bay until she at least understood the difference between a fairy and a pixie.

Once she had finally tracked Snow down - and that in itself took longer than she would have hoped - Emma was reluctant to go ahead with her request, but, as Snow had told her before, she had seen there was something that Emma wanted to speak with her about before she had even opened her mouth. Mother's intuition, or something, she guessed.

"Emma?" Snow asked with a small, almost concerned smile. The room had emptied itself, though Emma was sure there'd be at least a cluster of guards waiting outside the doors.

Wiping her slightly sweaty hands down her trousers, a habit Snow had tried in vain to break her out of, Emma finally swallowed her nerves - what had she to be nervous about? - and told her, "I want to see Regina."

Her mother's startled face was exactly what she had expected, and feared, but also even hoped for. She had been thinking about Regina for so long, now, that it had become a part of her, something she did because she just did – a kind of habit. But her mother's reaction was the exact slap in the face that she needed to let her know that it wasn't normal, it wasn't okay, and she needed to stop. She only hoped confronting Regina one last time would put a stop to her dreaded curiosity.

"What?" Snow finally stumbled out, her voice high a tinny.

Breaking their gaze for a moment, Emma thought out her logical reasons. There was only one illogical reason for seeing Regina, and she refused to accept that herself. She told Snow, "I think it'll help… like a sense of closure."

She could see that she was swiftly losing this battle, wondered for a second if this is what it would have been like living as a teenager with Snow and David after having asked to go gallivanting around with a group of elves. But Emma stuck to her argument, convincing herself that Snow should be thankful that they were close friends in Storybrooke, otherwise she wouldn't have come to ask her permission at all.

"This is what I need, just to say goodbye to that old life. I need to confront this, otherwise I'll never be able to let it go." She could see Snow's resolve breaking.

"If you think that's what you need, Emma," she said slowly, obviously not happy with the request, but knowing, if Emma was to visit Regina, the enchantments and guards there would keep her from harm.

Emma nodded. "It is."

It wasn't a lie, not all of it, but Emma knew she was keeping _something_ back, some form of reasoning, and hoped Snow hadn't also detected it.

"Then, okay," Snow sighed, frowning, "but you keep the guards around." Emma nodded, and before she was able to stand, Snow's hand settled atop one of her own. "She's powerless down there, there's no harm she can do to you, but I want you to be safe… and I think it's best that you don't tell your father about this."

Emma nodded again, the beginnings of a smirk at her lips, though she knew not to test her mother. "I don't think pop would be too pleased, either," she said, but her humour was lost on Snow.

Seeing her unease ridden expression, she quickly told her, "I'll be safe."

Snow nodded, would probably have offered her a smile if she could muster one, and watched her daughter leave. Despite the knowledge that Emma was going to be safe down there with that wicked woman, she wasn't at all happy about their meeting, nor was she happy about Emma's wanting of it.

# # # #

The dungeons - if you could really call them that - held the distinct smell of damp and stone, like Emma had stumbled upon the centre of an underground cave, but the earthy taste in the air was neither comforting nor pleasant.

There were two guards at one end of the corridor Emma had been led to. She had ordered them to stay where they were, at their end of the corridor, and they had begrudgingly conformed. Her boots left unmistakable echoes in the air, an intrusion unwelcome to her ears as she neared a barred wall. There was no door cut into the bars - she doubted there'd ever be a need for one - and instead the barred cavern acted as a looking glass into the _dungeon_ before her.

It was a large room, dimly lit and windowless, but the furniture looked to be that of what any middle class family could afford. Perhaps not as expensive as that in her own bedchamber, but definitely more than she had ever hoped of affording before having the status of 'princess' thrust upon her.

A bed, four-poster, with dark drapes and sheets, stood against one wall, with a tall wardrobe and a partitioning fold-out wall (painfully more expensive than the make-shift clothes-wrack-and-a-towel Emma had made for herself once) filled that area, yet left more room than Emma had been given in her first flat away from a foster family.

Beside that was a seating area, even a place for a small fire, though it was not lit, and Emma wondered if Regina was allowed to light it herself whenever she wished, or if she was given specific hours in which the fire would be roaring. There was no kitchen, but an open bath that sunk into the floor, and Emma doubted Regina would be so prudish as to complain. A small basin and mirror stood against the opposite wall of the bed, completing the room's furnishings, as far as Emma could tell.

Looking closer at the seemingly empty _cell_ - she almost laughed when she caught sight of the perfectly stacked bookshelf: she was an Evil Queen, but a prisoner of _Snow White__,_after all - Emma saw movement on one of the chairs that had been angled with its tall back towards the bars.

Looking in, Emma watched, quite trance-like, as Regina rose, dressed in an elegant gown she wouldn't be surprised if Snow had allowed her to keep from her own personal wardrobe. Emma was surprised that she didn't appear more feral, like a caged animal.

The smile on Regina's crimson-painted lips was unmistakable. "I thought I detected a new pair of _feet_," she spoke, her voice low and amused, making Emma feel uncomfortable.

It was as if their positions had reversed, and with only the bars between them, a five star hotel suite before her and two prison guards behind her, Emma felt that that was exactly what had happened.

Regina came close to the wall of bars, bowed ridiculously low - which only served to make Emma even more uncomfortable; she had to remind herself who was in charge here - and purred, yes, _purred_ out a sarcastic, "Hello, _Princess_." The title sounded more like a pet-name on her lips, and Emma was only glad the blush on her chest did not rise to her cheeks.

"You seem to be settling in well," she told her with a momentary glance over Regina's shoulder. "I always had you down as some kind of animal."

Regina's lips tilted in a way Emma hadn't meant to provoke. "Well," she flicked her hair, waist-length and loose, over her shoulder in a way Emma had never been able to accomplish, at least not as fiercely, and continued with a smile, "I guess there has always been some kind of _animalistic desire_in me."

Her eyes dropped to Emma's boots - who suddenly felt that they were the ugliest piece of footwear she had ever worn - and rose slowly up to the startled face before her.

Not liking where Regina was curbing their conversation, Emma stated, "Yeah, if by 'animalistic desire' you mean the ripping out of peoples' hearts."

Regina merely shrugged, looking all too much like some form of feline, as if Emma was before her for entertainment, and doing a very bad job of it, at that. Though the smile on her lips remained.

"Why are you here, Princess?"

And still, the pet-name remained, though Emma was too surprised to comment on it. Her tone sounded almost inviting, and Emma suspected that the loneliness of living beneath her enemy's kingdom was really catching up with her, especially seeing as she hadn't already _demanded_ she leave.

"What, you want me to go?" Emma asked, her own tone and expression an obvious façade of surprise.

Regina smiled and rested her hands upon her hips, slacking in her posture, as if she was already tired of their conversation. Emma knew otherwise.

"Oh, dear, you wouldn't be my first choice in jester, but I could certainly do worse."

Emma smirked despite herself and hoped it looked cruel.

She neared the bars, a few mere feet away from the wall between them, and said, "See, with all the tricks up your sleeve, I'd have to say the same about you."

Regina mirrored her steps, until she was almost pressed up against the bars, her arms clutched around them, and let out a throaty half-laugh-half-moan. "You should see me in my Cap 'n Bells." And did she just wink?

Swallowing with difficulty, closing the distance between herself and the bars, Emma came to eye-level with Regina and stated, "Something tells me there's no motley suit in there," with a nod towards the wardrobe.

"No," Regina sounded almost regretful, "but I don't doubt the image is beyond your imagination's capability."

And, indeed, it was not - Emma was already trying to blink away the burning image of Regina in a Harley Quinn costume, sporting an oversized mallet and a toothy grin.

"There was a lot beyond my _imagination's capability_ before I came here," Emma admitted, unsure as to why exactly she had given that little tid-bit up.

Regina smiled, pressing herself against the bars. Emma was close enough for her to reach a hand out, and her smile only widened when Emma had to force herself to repress a flinch. She took the collar of her frilly shirt between two fingers.

"You look the part, to me," she told her, and Emma wasn't sure if she was supposed to take it as a compliment, or not. Her stomach coiled - or was it a little lower than her stomach? - and her heartbeat quickened. Outside the cage, torch lights flickered on either side of the corridor.

"And you still manage to hide your devil horns," Emma quipped. "Appearance is often deceiving."

Regina's smile widened to show her perfect teeth. "Still… I think it's an improvement."

Her dark eyes raked over the shirt, and despite it not being something she would personally sport herself, even the thrills appeared to compliment the woman wearing them. Though she supposed anything was better than that god awful leather.

Unable to stop herself, almost forgetting the guards at the end of the corridor, Emma told her without missing a beat, "You should see what's beneath it."

Regina paused, almost expected the charred contents of that cavern inside her chest to seep out of her into a gooey puddle by her feet, but Emma did not miss the flash in her eyes.

"Those are dangerous words, Princess…"

Her eyes flicked to the guards, facing each other but still somehow watching their interaction, and Emma merely shrugged. Perhaps it was the rebellious teenager within her making up for asking permission to come and see Regina earlier that night.

Pleased with where their interaction was headed - she would be a damned liar if she said the _emptiness_ of her life wasn't getting to her - but still unable to hold back the one question that always seemed to be on the tip of her tongue, Regina risked ruining their moment to ask, hesitant and peculiarly quiet, "How's Henry?"

Emma tensed a little, though allowed the other woman's hand to remain by her collar, perhaps dangerously close to her neck. "I would have thought he'd take to this world well," Regina continued, "he was always so fascinated by fairytales, I can only image his joy at living inside of one."

And perhaps it was the reference to her missing time with Henry that did it, but Emma could not hold back the asshole within, and stated, with only a _tiny_ bit of pleasure and a nonchalant shrug, "I doubt he still thinks about you."

Regina understood Emma's intentions; she could hardly blame her, had expected them, in fact, but found her words almost comforting. He was getting on with his life - that was… good. It was good. She smiled despite herself, a twisted smirk that Emma saw right through, though perhaps she wanted her to. She would come back to that later, Henry, _her_Henry, and something told her she would have the opportunity to; Emma looked all too comfortable down here in the dark with her.

Opting for a change in topic, Regina said, "You never did tell me why you came all the way down here just to see me." She made it sound like a friendly trip to the next village. "Missing me already?"

"I don't know about missing _you_," Emma stepped closer to the bars despite the warning bells going off inside her head. "But those little, black pencil-skirts definitely grew on me."

Regina's smile was almost feline, and just as Emma registered it, and hadn't the time to prepare for the other woman's next move, dainty and yet forceful hands were behind her head and neck, and her face was being slammed roughly into the bars. But the yelp of pain that tried to escape her caught against Regina's lips as the other woman held her in for a kiss.

Just as quickly as the kiss had started, Regina was sauntering away from the bars, Emma's pained wince of "_Bitch_!" lost on her as the two guards rushed forward. Whatever they intended to do, however, Emma merely shrugged them away. They moved a few steps, Regina had walked away, after all, but refused to go any further.

"Goodbye, Ms. Swan," Regina called from deep within her cell.

She smiled to herself, unable to see the mixture of emotions that struck Emma's face, and fell back down into the seat she had earlier occupied. She lifted the small book from the arm of the seat, but refused to find the page she had put it down at until the distinct shuffling of armour and heavy-booted feet left the barred wall behind her.

Despite herself, despite all that she had learned, down here in the dark with nought but her dated books and her own subconscious to distract her thoughts from her current malady, Regina could not help but hope that that wasn't the last of Emma's prison visits.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, so upon first writing this story, I really liked the premise of it. Reading it back, however, has been just awful. So, a lot of it has been rewritten/added/emitted, but the basic storyline is still the same.

Warning: This chapter is rated M. And I'm not the best M-writer.

* * *

Prison Visit, Part 2

The life of a princess, as far as Emma understood it, was filled with limitations.

She was still waiting for her fairy godmother (all princesses had one, right?) to turn up and create a portal so that she could go freely to her old world and back again. So far, no magic, glowing ball of light - or whatever the hell a fairy godmother was, anyway - had come to her aid.

Giving up on wishing herself out of this world, then, Emma had spent the majority of her time either scaring off, or being scared off by the stables' horses. The animals hated her, and she had no desire to go galloping off into the sunset on one's back.

But 'lessons' were mandatory, apparently (another thing that princesses had, that she'd never paid any particular thought to before becoming one), and although her parents were allowing her to adjust gradually to this world, she doubted she'd ever get the hang of riding, or cross-stitching, or playing the goddamn piano.

And then there was the turning down of princess from the everlasting list of possible-suitors that Snow and David kept presenting to her. Emma had finally snapped one night and told them that she had no plans to marry at any point in her future, nor was she looking for a relationship, and she especially did not want to see any more silver-spoon-fed pompous asses – her exact words – with their shiny swords and their arrogant smiles, paraded before her like prise steeds for her to choose between.

Her parents had fallen silent for a moment, allowed her to calm down a little, and then told her that they understood. Their faces were solemn, and obvious regret was evident in their eyes, but they would not force her into marriage. They only hoped she would find a true love fast, as they had. No one deserved to be without that happiness, or so they'd often say.

With balled up fists and heavy footfalls, Emma had made her way to bed and screamed into her pillow for all of five minutes before falling asleep, fully dressed. She awoke the next morning with a thin blanket having been draped over her – perhaps a peace offering from a parent, or just a token of kindness from a maid, but either way she was still pissed.

She was in the same funk days after, and finally decided that she needed a distraction. She had told her parents as much, quickly followed by, upon seeing their eagerly parting lips, "Something that doesn't include scooping up horse crap, or unpicking stitches from a cushion."

They'd fallen silent, again, as she knew they would. She supposed that it was their sense of hopelessness that finally tipped them in her favour when asking, putting all of her princessly training to good use, whether she could visit Ruby.

And so that was how she happened upon a tiny horse and cart, something elaborate enough to let the villagers knows that she was a person of importance, without giving her identity away. Just to be sure, though, she'd grabbed one of Snow's old cloaks and pulled the hood up over her head.

Even here, though, away from the castle and her guards (and her parents), Emma couldn't help but muse over her life, now. In the first few days of arriving in the Enchanted Forest, she had assumed that her life would be as improved as her social status. And yet, here she was, having to hide her face before leaving her own home, lest any overly zealous villagers spot her and force their thanks, well wishes and presents upon her.

But she had something to ask her friend, and it meant getting out of the palace, at very least. She thought of her reasoning for going to Ruby – the only person able to help her without asking questions – and a small frown pulled her brows in close. She wasn't just hiding from the villagers, but her own parents.

The irony wasn't lost on her.

The thought struck her as a carriage wheel ran over a small rock, and she almost slid right off her seat. Perhaps this was how Henry had felt when he had first discovered that his mother was an Evil Queen.

She internally berated herself for finding herself stuck, once more, with thoughts of her parents' captive prisoner. Though, she supposed, Regina was the reason for her little trip in the first place.

# # # #

When the carriage finally pulled up, Emma paid the driver and asked him to wait for her. He agreed, with what she understood to be the equivalent of him 'keeping the meter running'. She slid down from the steps, ignoring his offered hand of help, and pulled her cloak a little tighter around her shoulders as she headed towards the small cottage peeking out from the outskirts of the surrounding forest.

The door was open, and a chimney lit. Emma followed the homey smell of freshly baked bread up the stone path, and tapped her knuckles against the door. It was almost as if Granny had come to expect Emma's visits, she was there so often.

"Hey, Granny," she grinned, removing her hood.

"Emma, dear." Granny greeted her with a large smile, her dimples showing and her eyes crinkling with the happy lines of age. "Well, come on inside. Can I get you some juice?"

Emma nodded with a thankful smile, and asked, making her way around the small kitchen, "Is Ruby home?"

"Oh, Ruby Red's taken a shine to a shoe maker."

Granny rolled her eyes, the nickname falling from her lips out of habit; her way of combining the two worlds she had lived in, Emma supposed. She poured a jug of what appeared to be fresh orange juice into a cup and handed it over to Emma.

"I'm expecting her any minute, though. Anything I can help you with?"

Emma took a sip and shook her head. "It's – I doubt it. But, thanks…"

Granny waved a hand and smiled, moving around the kitchen, again. She stooped over a pot, stirring, and the rich smell of vegetable soup filled the tiny kitchen like a fog.

And then came a happy drawl from the door. "Should my ears be burning?"

Emma turned just in time to catch Ruby skipping inside, her toothy smile brightening the room. "Someone looks happy," she grinned, the look she gave Ruby implying that she would be telling her all about this 'shoe maker' when they got out of earshot of Granny. Ruby might have blushed, but instead she put on a coy smile and shrugged a little. "Do you, uh, wanna go for a walk?"

"You came all this way to walk?" Ruby asked, suspecting Emma was ready to ask something from her.

But Emma merely shrugged in return. "I can walk these woods without a hood on my head, it's like a refuge," she told Ruby, and it wasn't a lie, exactly.

"Mhm, okay." Ruby frowned with a strange smile, though nodded her head over her shoulder, gesturing for Emma to step outside with her. "I'll be back later, Granny."

"Be safe, girls," she heard from the kitchen as she stepped out, followed swiftly by Emma, who had already placed her cup down and said her goodbyes.

They walked a while in silence, entering the woods and then some, but being cautious to keep the grey swirls of smoke from Granny's chimney within their sights. Emma had been lost in the woods only once, and that was before she had been sucked into a world whose forests were teeming with werewolves, ogres and, hell, she wouldn't be surprised if there were damn vampires in there, too.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Ruby finally asked once they had trudged up a, thankfully dry, hillside. Emma stopped and turned to observe her for a moment, wondering whether she should voice her thoughts. But Ruby recognised that look on her face, and asked, rhetorically, "You're still not happy here, are you?"

Emma let out a sigh and dropped her gaze, continuing to walk. She took a few steps before turning back and saying, "It's not that I'm not happy…" but it so plainly felt like it, "…it's just that Snow and David keep trying to force this happily ever after on me, and the whole 'true love'" her fingers came up in air-quotations, "thing, and I thought _they_, of all people, would realise that that's not how it works."

Ruby shrugged a little, frown set in place as she read Emma's expression. "I think there's something else…" She trailed off, biting her lip slightly. Perhaps this was why Emma hadn't been as close with her in Storybrooke - the girl had ridiculously tuned instincts. She shook her head of blonde curls, but Ruby continued. "There's something else bothering you, and not just being stuck here."

"Ruby, I don't feel stuck here-" Emma tried to tell her, feeling ungrateful and undeserving, but Ruby cut her off.

"It's okay, Emma," she reassured, "you had your own life before this, in an entirely different world. You spent, what, twenty-eight-years there. That's your home." Emma sighed at her words, but didn't have time to ask her what she was supposed to do to make this new world feel like home.

"Just… put it this way," Ruby continued. "We were all 'cursed' to live in Storybrooke, right? I mean… it wasn't really that much of a curse… apart from the whole trauma of remembering who I was. Back there I didn't have to worry about transforming into a wolf every full moon.

"I didn't have to worry about waking up in the morning and not even remembering if I had killed a hundred people in the night. And… it was kind of nice… that world felt so familiar while I was there, and, I mean, it feels weird being here with no _inter_net."

She shook her head at her herself. "All I'm trying to say is that I could easily go back to Storybrooke. Maybe because I spent so many years there, but… I'd like to think, with time, you'd start to understand this world and… come to like it like I'm sure we all did Storybrooke."

Unable to reply, Emma pulled Ruby into a tight hug. Ruby smiled into her embrace, squeezing her arms around her. "You've just got to give it time."

"God…" Emma smirked at herself and blinked back the tears, dropping her hold from Ruby and stepping out of her embrace. "Thanks… _Sorry_."

Ruby shrugged with a smile and they continued walking along the tree-speckled hillside. The silence lasted only a short moment, however, before Ruby finally gave up and rolled her eyes.

"Okay, _seriously_." Emma turned to her in questioning. "What do you want?"

"What?"

"I know you didn't come out here just to walk up hills and talk about your feelings," Ruby told her. "No offence, but you weren't exactly open with your emotions back in Storybrooke. I doubt those princess lessons have changed you that much, already."

Emma shrugged off the almost-insult and wrung her hands together in front of her, ceasing her steps. Ruby stopped with her, waiting expectantly.

"Okay… I need a little help."

From the tone of her voice, and the almost impish expression daring to take over her features, Ruby smirked and nodded, signalling for her to go on.

"I need something – a spell or a bit of magic, or whatever, that will put, say… everyone but myself in a temporary sleep within about a two hundred meter perimeter. Also, a silencing charm."

At Ruby's raised eyebrows, she offered a meek smile and added, "And I need help from somebody who won't ask questions."

# # # #

Emma looked at the little black rock dubiously. If what Ruby had said was right, the second she dropped this in Regina's corridor (she had to stop referring to it as that), all guards within a 150m radius would fall into a temporary sleep. Ruby had told her that she suspected it would last, going by the size of the rock, for at least forty minutes – long enough for what Emma had in mind.

She turned her attention then to the tiny glass vile of transparent liquid. Once smashed, it would silence the entire corridor from the other guards within earshot. The enchantments on Regina's cell should shield her from the charms, and some form of enchantment had been placed upon the items to exclude Emma herself from their effects.

When the sleeping guards awoke, they would have no recollection of the drowsiness that befell them, and would, she hoped, have no idea that they had been out cold for an hour.

Her plan should have been fool-proof, of course, but there was still one deciding factor that she couldn't control. Regina. If she decided that, no, thank you, she'd rather clean the spines of her book collection, then all of this effort would have been in vain. Then again, Emma mused, Regina turning her down should be within her best interests…

As she neared the corridor, the guards greeted her with a look of surprise that was unmistakable behind their helmets, but Emma merely acknowledged their presence with a nod - maybe she was better at this 'Royalty thing' than she had expected - and neared the caged wall of Regina's cell. Her pockets felt heavy with the vile and rock, and she was, at least this one time, thankful to be a princess: there would be no patting-down going on for this prison visit.

As if she had been expecting her, or had recognised the less than graceful shuffling of her feet down the corridor, Regina came prowling into view, a smile on her face that divulged just lonely she must be feeling down here.

"Well, this _is_ a surprise," she drawled, expression contrasting with her words; the knowing look there almost fuelled Emma into turning on the spot and running from view.

With a masked coolness, Emma neared the bars - not as close as her last visit - and pulled her lips into a smile, though the thrill of what she had planned ruined her hopes of portraying a false enjoyment.

"You know how it is," she began with a shrug, "I got bored with roaming free and thought I'd amuse myself with those less fortunate than I." Her tone was exaggerated, the glint in her eyes highlighting the falseness.

Regina merely blinked, expression almost indignant.

As if burdened with the monotony of a dentist's waiting room, Regina picked at her nails and stated, tone nonchalant, "Anyone would think you were enjoying these visits…" She looked up just in time to witness Emma masking whatever emotion had betrayed her face upon hearing those words.

Choosing to ignore her, Emma went against her better judgement and stepped into the bars, arms coming around them to rest by her face as she tilted her head to one side, regarding Regina. The former Evil Queen - was she now just _Evil_? - smirked at her move and stalked forward, hands clutching the bars by Emma's hips.

In the dark space of shared body heat between them, Emma's heart doubled in pace. She gripped the bars tighter, and focused on Regina's face. She looked utterly intact, but for the dark circles threatening to drown out her eyes.

From their close proximity, Regina was able to smell the faint perfume that Emma had, only moments before, hesitantly sprayed across her neck. The scent both surprised and excited her.

"Mm," she sighed, eyes momentarily closing, eclipsing Emma's confused stare. "I had you down for more of a wild berries kind of girl."

Emma frowned at her, wondering all too late whether or not the apple-scented perfume had been a good idea. "Whereas I thought nightshade was more your thing," she quipped, though had to swallow around the sudden lump in her throat.

"Reach into my pockets," she whispered suddenly, voice low enough for the prison guards to miss.

Regina's expression dropped into confusion, and she looked down at the slight bulges at Emma's hips. Meeting her eyes with a carefully placed blank expression, she slipped her hands past the bars, nimble fingers sliding over Emma's hips until they found their required destination. Emma merely watched her expression crack into surprise as her fingers closed around the rock and the vile, hands remaining inside her pockets.

"What's this?" Regina asked quietly, knowing that even a princess would be kindly escorted away from her cell if she was caught smuggling in goods.

"I think you have a vague idea," Emma told her back, and, in truth, Regina did recognise the texture of the rock in her hands.

"You know these charms won't work on me?" she asked. "These walls have stripped me from my magic, but they also protect me from the magic of others."

Emma smirked. "I had no intention of using them on you."

Frowning a little, Regina looked past Emma to the two guards, her brows rising as she understood Emma's meaning. As if to ask whether she had assumed right, she stretched her fingers out inside of Emma's pockets and gave her thighs a light squeeze.

Controlling her hitched breath, Emma nodded, "That's right."

She glanced down as Regina slowly removed the items from her pockets, keeping them hidden from the guards' view. There was a look of recognition over Regina's face as she saw the slightly shimmering contents of the vile, and Emma almost missed the lack of warmth on her thighs.

"You do understand what will happen once I drop these?" she asked, pleased that Emma had allowed her to take charge. When Emma did not answer, she clarified, "No one will be around to help you, and no one will hear your screams…"

"That's kinda what I'm banking on."

Emma felt more than heard the little rock and vile drop. She wasn't sure what charm had excluded her from their effects, but was thankful as she felt an intense wave wash over her.

The noise of scraping armour as the guards slid to the ground let her know the rock had been successful, and she only hoped she could say as much for the glass vile. She nudged it out of the way with one foot, and couldn't help but muse that, by the time they found out if the formula had worked or not, it would surely be too late.

And that's when Regina leapt, her face pressed against the bars, Emma's own cheeks forced into place there as their lips met. Not caring for gentleness, Regina attacked Emma's bottom lip, trapping it between her teeth, and took advantage of her yelp of pain, slipping her tongue in past her teeth.

Their first kiss had been all too quick for Emma's liking, and when Regina began to show signs of pulling back, she tightened her arms around her, not allowing any movement from that position. A low moan - or was it a growl? - filled her mouth at Regina's slight discomfort, and Emma could feel the bars attempting to rid her of a layer of skin from over her own cheeks.

She pulled out of the kiss only when she felt a tugging on her shirt, and looked down to see the buttons quickly being popped. Satisfied with her work, Regina smiled at the lacy bra that hid Emma's breasts and pulled her back into a kiss. The soreness of her cheeks soon had her pulling back, though the pain dimmed considerably as she felt Emma's hands struggle to reach the clasp at the back of her neck.

When she finally managed to unlatch it and drag the dress over her shoulders, Regina swept her hands over ivory skin, Emma's shirt now lying in a crumpled pile on the floor. She cupped the hidden breasts before her, and Emma faltered in her movements for all of a second or two, before Regina regretfully removed her hands to allow her dress to slip from her completely.

The heavy material fell like a curtain, and pooled by her feet. It was easy enough to step out of it, while her gifted fingers began to free Emma from the confines of her trousers.

A whistle of air seeped past her lips as she saw Regina was wearing only a pair of expensive looking lacy panties - which she was pretty certain did not belong in a fairytale world.

"Step out of these," Regina commanded, voice breathy and not at all as forceful as she would have liked. She tugged on the trousers, which she had worked down to Emma's mid-thigh. When she looked up to green eyes, her gaze held all the demanding her voice had not.

Emma reluctantly broke their contact, and she quickly kicked off her boots and socks, and shuffled her trousers down and off. An unwitting moan of appreciation crawled up her throat when she noticed that Regina was still wearing her heels.

Red lips grinned back at her with a confidence that hit Emma right between the legs, and despite Regina's 'Evil no-longer-Queen' status, she wanted nothing more than for the bars to be removed so that she could test her theory of Regina's prison bed still being more comfortable than the one 'Mary Margaret' had offered her back in Storybrooke.

She saw the same sentiments lingering in the dark eyes opposite her, but whatever issue either woman had was forgotten the second their lips had once again met. Somewhere in the back of her mind, perhaps coming from the same voice that had first led her down here all those nights ago, Emma thought that the red-raw cheeks she was bound to be sporting afterwards were going to be absolutely worth her appearing constantly bashful.

Emma could feel Regina's hands everywhere, warming her exposed flesh, back and stomach, squeezing at her ass and tugging impatiently at her bra-clad chest. The bars against her stomach were cold and unpleasant, and Emma was sure the same could be said for Regina. For all their discomfort, they pressed into them harder, pleading with the obstructing metal for the closeness they each desired.

It was then that Emma's greedy fingers found Regina's chest, arms twisted around the bars, and she covered each breast with her palms. Regina let out a euphoric moan and arched into the bars, not even the shock of cold metal enough to deter her pleasure. How long had it been since somebody had _touched_ her?

Emma's grasp only fed her longing to do the same, however, to touch and be touched, and in a desperation that she hadn't let show for years, Regina snapped the clasp of the blonde's bra open. She pulled back from the warm lips that had left her own tingling, and shot Emma a wicked smirk as she moved her hands back, allowing her bra to slide down her arms and land in the pile of clothes by her feet.

The cold air had her nipples fully erect within seconds, soothed only by Regina's heated palms as they once again came together around the prison bars. It wasn't enough, and it was altogether _too much_.

Regina wanted desperately to trace with her tongue the faint indentations that Emma's bra had left on her pale flesh. She could curse the bars between them, she thought, and then herself, for wanting them gone if only to feel as much of Emma's flesh pressed against her own as possible.

Emma pulled herself from their kiss to glance down at the lacy underwear Regina was still wearing. With a breathy smirk, she asked, "Don't tell me, the cute little forest animals made these for you?" As if to emphasise her point, she snapped the elastic, and took pleasure in Regina's slight flinch.

"Don't be ridiculous," the prisoner drawled, though a smirk soon lit up her lips. "As for your choice in lingerie, I have to say, I'm not surprised."

Emma glanced down with a furious blush at her underwear. She hadn't exactly had time to pack, but the Superman underpants she had been wearing the day the curse had shattered had remained in her 'princess' wardrobe'. A part of her dreaded the day they became too worn to wear.

She was able to shrug off her slight embarrassment, however, as she saw the way Regina's eyes had yet to leave her underwear, and a small smile conquered her lips.

Forcing her eyes back up to Emma's, Regina growled, "Take them off."

The thudding between her thighs only increased at her tone, and Emma gladly slid the last remaining piece of clothing from her body, standing bare in the cold, dimly lit corridor before what the villagers above her head deemed to be the devil incarnate.

A captivated stare held Regina's expression as her hands, placed firmly on Emma's hips, guided her closer to the bars. Emma watched Regina's eyes darken as she slid the fingers of her right hand towards the short curls between her legs. Her other hand came around to a thigh, nudging it out the way slightly so as to give her wondering fingers greater space to explore. Air filled her lungs with a sharp gasp as those nimble fingers began to stroke through the wetness between her thighs, all at a tantalizing pace.

"Don't tease," she sighed, not missing the look of enjoyment that their power-play leant to Regina's expression.

The part of Regina that wanted to hold back and have Emma begging for her touch was overruled by the part that wanted her screaming her name loud enough to threaten the silencing charm. Stroking Emma with one hand, she waited until she was satisfied with her soft moans and mewls before pushing a finger, followed swiftly by another, deep inside her opening.

The expression on her face, at last, shattered, and Emma dropped her forehead against a cool bar. It was then that Regina realised, for all of Emma's teasing, she was no better off than she was, down in here in the earth. She'd bet anything – anything that she still had left: her sanity, perhaps – that Emma hadn't been touched in almost as long as she had. If nothing else, her discovery, and the look of pure abandon on Emma's face, was enough to steel her nerves with confidence

Finally, opening her eyes, Emma's hands slipped through her bars, stomach resting against them for support, and latched onto Regina's underwear. She pulled the lacy material down as far as she could manage without Regina breaking contact. Feeling her lingerie almost to her knees, Regina pressed a leg into the bars, fitting through to mid-thigh, and Emma happily tugged her panties off. They snapped back around Regina other ankle, and she easily flicked them to the floor.

Emma was glad to see Regina already slick with want, and her selfish fingers disregarded any seriously attempts at teasing as she entered her two digits at a time. Regina's strangled moan ceased only when her teeth nipped at Emma's chin, their lips once again meeting as they writhed against the bars.

Feeling her climax nearing, Regina struggled to be closer to Emma. Her leg once again came up through the bars to mid-thigh, and she wrapped it around one of Emma's own pale limbs. The metal was heated with their bodies, not nearly as uncomfortable as it had been when they had just begun.

The corridor filled with muffled moans, heavy breaths and high-pitched cries, the temperature of the enclosed space a welcome caress to both women's sweating bodies. Not that either of them spared a thought for it, but it appeared the silencing charm was effective, as no guard had yet rushed in to _save_ Emma from the murderous clutches of the former Evil Queen.

A sudden wave of euphoria finally separated their kiss, and a ragged cry swept from Regina's lips as she lost herself to feeling. Her leg tightened around Emma's in parallel with her clamping walls, her hand moving from the breast she had been moulding to loop around Emma's back, dragging her closer into her, and the sensation all but pushed Emma over the edge along with her.

Once the final spasms had twitched their bodies into peaceful stillness, Emma almost wanted to remain in their position, wrapped around the bars with Regina's body, hot and sticky and peaceful. But her sudden landing back into reality reminded her exactly what circumstances she was in, who it was her fingers were still inside, and she all but dropped Regina to redress herself.

She would be lying if she said that she didn't take any pleasure from the slight stumble Regina gave at her sudden departure. Though, despite her seemingly dazed state, Emma doubted Regina had expected anything more from her.

Her head was swimming with thought, yet even then it appeared something was still missing. She tried to provoke a sense of regret, of guilt, within her, but with her body still coming down from her sex-induced high, she found the only feeling within her that caused her any discomfort was _want_.

Regina watched her from behind the bars, legs planted firmly on her side of the cell, as Emma quickly shrugged into her clothes. When Emma caught sight of her, still bare and with a terrifying look of lust upon her face, she faltered in the buttoning up of her shirt. Running her tongue over her teeth slightly, the blonde let out a sigh and dropped her arms.

"You weren't expecting me to stay?" she asked, almost wanting her tone to sound mocking, but even she could not ignore the blatant sound of longing in her voice.

"If you stay, I don't think I'll ever let you leave," Regina told her, casually enough to unnerve Emma. She leaned into the bars, and continued, "Although I'd love to see the looks on their faces," with a nod towards the guards, "I don't doubt your mother would see to my taxidermied head decorating her bedroom wall, should she discover what we've done."

The thought provoked a shiver within Emma, and she frowned at the woman before her, this newfound burst of emotion enabling her to put a cease to the stolen glances at Regina's naked body.

"She's been good to you," she found herself saying, not believing that after so many years of telling herself that she would not defend her mother, that was exactly what she was doing. "If anyone else was in charge, you'd never have made it out of Storybrooke alive."

Regina merely smiled at her words with not even a glimmer of cruelty. "Come here," she told Emma softly, feeling a slight buzz when Emma did so without so much as a second of hesitation. Her arms left the bars once more, reaching up to fasten the buttons on Emma's shirt that she had left open.

"There, all better," she smiled at her work, looking so pleased with herself that Emma almost forgot what situation they were in. "Now no one will suspect you've been fucking your parents' most despised prisoner."

_Way to kill the moment…_

"So," Regina began, her arms retreating to grasp the bars once more, "will we be doing this again?"

The forwardness surprised her, and Emma wanted to ignore the hope in her eyes, but was sure it only mirrored her own. She shrugged despite herself, unable to stop the sadistic side Regina often brought out in her from wanting to prolong the other woman's unease.

"Oh, I don't know… there's a big ol' world out there that I need to explore."

Regina understood her intentions and her eyes narrowed, though she remained quiet. With a smirk, Emma stepped into the bars, her arms snaking around Regina's tiny waist as she pulled her into her.

Releasing a heavy breath, she looked into Regina's eyes, suddenly seeming so open and honest that it was hard to remember all the bad she had done, and Emma realised that she doubted she'd be able to stop herself from ending up back in her arms again.

Regina saw the unspoken answer for herself, provoking a small smile as she reached her hands up to Emma's cheeks. They were red with scratches, and she knew her own would be the same, but still both women happily pressed into the bars for one final kiss.

"You should go," Regina said, enjoying the power Emma so freely allowed her to grasp. "The sleeping hex is likely to wear off soon."

Emma was reluctant to go, and not only because the arms holding her were so inviting. The guards had seen her enter and would surely be suspicious if they found she had suddenly vanished. She could only hope the loss of an hour from their day would be shrugged off as time simply flying by, or however that saying went.

"I can't yet – if they see me gone…" She didn't have to finish.

Regina smiled and slowly untangled herself from Emma's arms, the look on her face making Emma question whether she had wanted her to leave if only for the guards to alert the Queen and King that something not quite right had gone down while they were on duty.

Taking a step back, Emma watched as Regina dressed, repressing the urge to ask her why she was still wearing heels when she was locked up in a dungeon. She felt she already knew Regina's answer - when was _Madame Mayor_ever one to slack on her public appearance?

When the distinct sound of clanking metal alerted Emma that the guards had awoken, she cast what she hoped was a non-suspicious glance over her shoulder. They appeared to be in a daze for a minute or two before resuming their positions. If they had any queries about what might have happened to them, it did not show.

Sensing that it was time to leave, Emma placed one hand on the prison bars as she regarded Regina. The other woman was dressed, looking every inch the captive Queen, and when she saw Emma's expression she leant closer into the bars to tell her,

"Goodbye, Princess." The pet name sent a shiver down Emma's back. "Take good care of my son while I'm gone." She made it sound like a weekend babysitting job, and Emma felt her initial dislike towards Regina make a sudden reappearance.

"Oh, I'll make sure Henry and I get some good mother-son-bonding time in while you're gone," she smiled, the falseness of it aching her tender cheeks.

Instead of replying, Regina merely shot her a smile that spoke condescending volumes. Emma wanted to slam her back into the bars and take her right there and then, if only to rip a cry from her throat.

Reigning in her anger, Emma blinked once and shook her head slightly before she dropped her hand from the bar it had been clutching, cooler now than when their heated bodies had been pressed against it. She took in a deep breath, turned, and strode back down the corridor the way in which she had come.

The rock, she noticed, had long since disappeared, as had the glass vile, and the only reminder of her prison visit lingered on both cheeks, still sore to the touch and, she later noticed with a wince, almost as red as Regina's ruby lips. Though she was uncertain whether the colour came from the attack of the rough, metal bars, or the flush that washed her body with unsettling serenity.

Either way, even to spite herself, she made a vow that she would not return to Regina's cell until the redness had completely vanished. And, with that, she could only hope its cause was indeed a blush.


End file.
